


52 Bonds

by roxtrox7



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Platonic Soulmates, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-13 18:06:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21197636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roxtrox7/pseuds/roxtrox7
Summary: Peter knew he had a big destiny ahead of him, bigger than the entire state of Missouri.  It was literally etched into his back.





	52 Bonds

Peter knew he had a big destiny ahead of him, bigger than the entire state of Missouri. It was literally etched into his back. 

From the nape of his neck to the base of his spine was a column of bondmarks, twelve matching up with the vertebrae. Some of them branched out on either side like family marks did on some people. There was a gold arrow with tons of red marks spreading across his shoulder blades and a purple stone with even more marks spread across his lower back (one of which he swore was Captain America’s shield). In total he had fifty-two marks, way more than any other kid at school.

His mother, a cassette tape right above his heart, told him it’s cause his daddy came from the stars. All those marks must be people he’s going to meet when his daddy comes to take them away. Peter hated that the most. His mom only had six marks wrapped around her wrist like a charm bracelet.

He did go to space in the end, his mom was always right when it really counted. The man who abducted him, the gold arrow surrounded by red, was definitely not his father. Yondu taught him a lot about space, most importantly you have to work to eat. Peter learned how to fire a gun and pick a pocket, how to play the lost little boy and the wild slave child, how to take down opponents four times his size using cunning rather than brute strength. 

Those first few weeks had been horrible, the sick nausea of losing his mother mixing with the warmth of finding dozens of new bondmates all at once was too much to bare. It got better. The feelings eased and he found a niche for himself on the old hunk of junk full of adults threatening to eat him one toe at a time. 

It was Kraglin who first noticed his marks. Peter figured out real quick that not many species were like humans and tried to keep his marks hidden until he learned to lie smooth enough to call them tattoos. He was still a kid when Kraglin came aboard. He wasn’t that much bigger than Peter and Yondu called him brat so he wasn’t an adult either. Peter followed the other relentlessly, whining to be taught how to repair engines and set up meetings with contacts. Yondu loved it, he didn’t even try to hide his sadistic smiles whenever Kraglin could not manage to lose his new shadow.

It was just a matter of time before Kraglin saw him without a shirt. Most of the grownups overlooked him or chalked up anything weird to being Terran but Kraglin wasn’t a grownup and just about lost it over all the marks down Peter’s spine.

“What the hell are you?” The older boy whispered harshly. He had a gun in his hand and was breathing harshly, almost like he was scared.

“Don’t be stupid Krag.” Peter said without even flinching. He was just about desensitized to guns in his face. “You know I’m Terran.”

“You’re a …” Whatever Karglin really said didn’t translate through his implant so it had to be a Xandarian thing.

“I ain’t whatever you just said. I know I got a lot of them but that’s not that weird back on Terra.”

Kraglin doesn’t put away his gun but he does lower it a bit. Peter doesn’t know much about Kraglin other than he was part of a different ravager crew who traded him off for some spare parts. He does know that Ravagers don’t deal in slaves though so the whole thing is pretty iffy. None of that really matters though, there’s only one thing he really wants to ask.

“How’s it work where you’re from?”

On Kraglin’s homeworld, a little out of the way Xandarian colony, you only get one mark and you never _ever_ show it off. They call them soulmarks and the person who wore yours was your soulmate, the person you were meant to spend your whole life with. Sometimes it was romantic or reproductive but sometimes it was best friends or mentors and pupils. Peter simply could not wrap his head around it but to be fair Kraglin didn’t really get that Peter had marks for family and friends and lovers and enemies. Peter didn’t even bother trying to explain his selfmark hiding at the base of his skull. That was fine though, at least he wasn’t the only one on the ship with a mark anymore.

He had a mark for Kraglin right next to Yondu’s arrow, it was the kerchief he would wear down in the engine room. He had marks for most of the ravagers on the ship. He had not realized who was who right away what with all the overload when he first arrived but over time he associated the needle with the six-armed doctor and the laser blaster with the quartermaster. Being in space was not as fun as he had imagined but at least he knew he was in the right place.

The warmth he felt when he pulled the orb from its pedestal was intense. It was like being beamed up to Yondu’s ship all over again. The only problem was literally no one was around. Sure some lunatics showed up but the feeling happened before he saw any of them. All he could say for sure was it was the purple stone mark above the black boot but under the cocktail. 

Things did not improve after that. He met his black boot, Gamora, his knotted wires, Rocket, and his dandelion seed, Groot. What was worse were none of them branched off the purple stone like he had expected. They were part of the central column, all stacked one upon the other under the purple stone. Which was kind of shitty since, at least for Peter, all the marks along his spine were very, very important people in his life. He couldn’t for the life of him figure out how a beautiful assassin, a deranged raccoon, and a tree were meant to be so important other than getting him killed. 

It turns out that not only does he meet more important people: Ronan and his black hammer, Nebula’s bionic eye, and Drax with his crossed daggers sitting between Rocket and Gamora on his spine, but he kind of ends up saving a planet and maybe a galaxy. So at least he was right about having a big destiny. Only trouble is now he knows that purple stone mark is a literal purple stone that tried to tear him and his friends into atoms. Ronan branches off from it but so do a ton of other mark he has yet to meet which really sucks cause that means a bunch of other nonsense is going to happen and he really would be happy to retire to a life of saving people for fun and profit.

He has a team of bondmates and a destiny almost too big for his back but that’s nothing for Star-Lord. He shrugs it off and forgets as much as can, as much as he is used to doing around aliens.

It’s Rocket who notices his marks first. Peter started grooming Rocket after they leave Xandar behind. Apparently he used to just scratch up against Groot’s trunk to get his back before but that’s not possible with their big guy turned into a little buddy. It just sort of happens, he sees Rocket struggling to get the fur sprouting around his cybernetics and offers to help. It becomes a thing, Peter and Rocket bonding time. Then one day Peter decides it’s time to trim his hair and Rocket offers to help him.

Peter sits at the big table in the middle of the ship with Rocket standing on it to get a better reach. The little gun maniac does a good job even though he keep talking like he’s going to give him something ridiculous. Rocket’s chatter suddenly stops, his paws precariously close to Peter’s selfmark. He had not forgotten it was there, that is literally impossible, but he had overlooked that Rocket was really smart and really observant.

“What’s this?” He pokes the ravanger red star with a single claw and Peter jumps away like he is escaping an attack. He grabs the back of his head with both hands. Rocket holds up both his paws in peace. “The hell, Quill?”

“Sorry.” Peter grimaces. “I should have warned you, I honestly didn’t think about it.”

“What is it?” Rocket asks again, beady eyes shining with curiosity.

“My mark obviously.”

Rocket looks like he is going to be sick and die laughing at the same time. “You! You’ve got a mark and you _let_ me touch it.”

“I told you I didn’t think about it. It’s not like you would hurt it.”

“Quill that shit could have killed you.”

“I’m not a Xandarian or a Kree. It’s not that big of a deal. It’s just sensitive is all.”

“Yeah fine, sure, whatever Star-Lord. Now get back here so I can finish.” 

Peter retook his seat with a huff. Rocket’s paws were extra careful after that. 

The team finds out about all his marks after he gets shot in the shoulder. It wasn’t bad enough for him to stop fighting the smugglers whose base they just blew up, but it was bleeding more than a little bit. They escape in a hail of lasers and bullets but they escape. 

Peter sits heavily in his seat in the cockpit letting Rocket fly without complaint for once as he focuses on all the bleeding he’s doing. The moment they hit deep space his team is all over him. It was never expected, that a bunch of emotionally stunted criminals would be so obsessive about each other’s wellbeing but it made an odd sort of sense.

Drax picks him up even though Peter whines that he’s a big boy and can walk all on his own. He is laid out on the table, all the trash pushed to the floor. Gamora cuts off his third favorite shirt but manages to get his ravager coat off without damaging it more than it already is. The wound is shallow but still bleeding steadily. Rocket pries the bullet out with steady careful hands as Drax holds Peter’s legs still and Gamora lets him squeeze her hand without complaint.

It takes a bit of doing but Rocket manages to patch him up with their substandard medical supplies. Peter is drained and ready to sleep for a week but first he has to get up. Sitting is difficult but he manages. He remembers his bare back only when Drax booms “Those are strange tattoos, Quill.” Everything goes kind of still after that.

“Can a man get a shirt around here?” His attempt at a joke only gets him two very furious stares and Drax proclaiming that he owns no shirts to share. “Sorry?” He says a bit unevenly.

“You’re the biggest idiot in the universe Star-Lord.” Rocket says.

“But I’m your idiot. I’ve got the marks to prove it.” The shift from anger to confusion is too funny not to laugh at. 

“Explain yourself.” Gamora says. He gulps only a little bit. It’s never good when Gamora’s sentences go all short and lacking his name.

“It’s just a Terran thing. I’m not like Xandarians or the kree, I won’t go into a blood lust over mates or whatever that thousand year war was all about. There aren’t soulmates on Earth. We call ‘em bondmarks. They represent every important person we meet in our lives, good or bad.”

“You said you just had the one.” Rocket accuses.

“No you only saw the one. I usually hide the rest cause they freaked Kraglin out, not to mention they’re sensitive as hell. Guess I can’t do that until I can move my shoulder again though.”

“Tell me friend Peter, who are they?” And wow, yeah, it’s been a long time since someone asked that. It’s not like it is a taboo on Earth or anything, just not a particularly polite sort of question. 

“Well this one,” He lifts up his hair to show his red star, “is me.” He works his way down: his mom branching off to his grandpa, his aunts and cousins, there’s Sandy the first girl he ever kissed when he was five and was certain he was going to marry, there’s Yondu and Kraglin and all the other ravagers spread across his shoulder blades like scraggly diseased wings, there’s the first person he had sex with, the infinity stone and Ronan and bunch of marks for people he has yet to meet stretching from one side to the other, then there’s Gamora with Nebula next to her, Drax, Rocket, and Groot standing alone, followed by a constellation without a person, the very last mark looks like the silhouette of a cat and branches off in each direction by two. “There’s fifty-two in total, not to brag or anything but my life’s pretty exciting.”

“More than one of these people has attempted to kill you.” Gamora points out as if Peter’s the crazy one here.

“Not everyone who’s tried to kill me. Otherwise I’d run out of room.”

The joke is lost on them. They have questions: what’s a selfmark, isn’t that narcissistic, can he feel their pain, if they die will it kill him, what the hell was he thinking keeping secrets like this. Peter does his best to answer, they deserve that. By the time Gamora declares it’s time for Peter to rest his head is spinning but hey, what can you do when your bondmates have questions?


End file.
